


Santa Baby

by Anonymous



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Christmas, Christmas Depression, M/M, Minor Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Self-Doubt, Sugar Baby Jaskier | Dandelion, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28189362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “I was gonna suggest you find a sugar daddy. Lots of rich guys like taking cute, younger guys and girls to holiday parties, show off a little. Get you some extra cash for the season, maybe pay your rent through new year,” Eskel said.Jaskier's mouth fell open so wide, it may never close again. “A sugar, sugar—you can't be serious.” Not Eskel, logical, caring Eskel, suggestion that Jaskier basically prostitute himself for fucking rent money.Eskel shrugged. “Lambert and Aiden sugar. It's no big deal.”
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion/Vesemir
Comments: 12
Kudos: 129
Collections: anonymous





	Santa Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crateofkate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crateofkate/gifts).



> This is all Kate's fault. We were talking about Vesemir in a Santa suit and my mind went places... No, I did not expect to write Santa porn this year, but here we all are. Modern day, they all work at the mall, just go with it.
> 
> Lambert/Aiden is just background, but it's too cute not to tag.

Jaskier was going to kill Lambert. And Eskel. Geralt too for good measure. Just kill the lot of them, then he'd be manager and get to pick a new team of people who wouldn't secretly make him a dating profile on a sugar baby website. He never should've taken the date. He should just get up right now, walk away... But fuck he needed the money. Money, support, groceries, anything.

It wasn't Jaskier's fault the world collectively decided that music was no longer important in the educational system. He was almost finished with his degree when he heard of schools cutting their music programs, bumping teachers down to part time. He was a trained musician and hoped to write songs or even record his own stuff, but teaching would help him keep working and earning while he waited for a big break. That was the plan at least. But now he was back at his old college job, during the busy fucking Christmas season too.

All his old friends still worked there, so that was nice, no need to get to know a new team (except after he murdered them all). It was Eskel who noticed first, damn him. Jaskier wasn't buying lunch at the food court anymore, preferring to bring sad sandwiches from home. He finished ringing up the last customer and saw the store was empty before turning on Jaskier. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answered a little too quickly. Eskel arched one eyebrow and Jaskier sighed, deflating. Stupid fucking dad friend... “I'm having trouble finding a job in my field. Obviously, because I'm working here again during the Christmas rush to make extra money. So I decided to save where I could. No more meals out, you know.”

“Yeah, that would be fine, if it didn't look like you were cutting out meals entirely.” Eskel poked at Jaskier's (admittedly) flatter stomach. Ugh, it wasn't fair, they were all built like gods. It helped for working in the sporting goods store of the mall, the only reason Jaskier was there was because his father owned a gym back in his home town and he actually knew his shit. And he was captain of the cross country team in school, so again: he knew his shit. Competent and non-threatening to the more normal customers who came in, Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert were better with the die hard sports nuts and gym rats. “So you need money?”

“Ah, ah, oh no, don't get any ideas.” He and Eskel started at the same time, but Eskel worked his way up to manager. It was strange, being friends who the boss, but they were friends first and it balanced itself out. “Don't get yourself in trouble by trying to get me a raise or whatever, you don't need to stick your neck out for me.”

“That's not what I was going to suggest,” Eskel said. “I was gonna suggest you find a sugar daddy. Lots of rich guys like taking cute, younger guys and girls to holiday parties, show off a little. Get you some extra cash for the season, maybe pay your rent through new year.”

Jaskier's mouth fell open so wide, it may never close again. “A sugar, sugar—you can't be serious.” Not Eskel, logical, caring Eskel, suggestion that Jaskier basically prostitute himself for fucking rent money.

Eskel shrugged. “Lambert and Aiden sugar. It's no big deal.”

“Lambert and—are you fucking serious?” Aiden, Lambert's boyfriend who worked at the goth/scene store across from theirs. During slow days, they both stood at their respective cash registers and made kissy faces, Aiden's eyes rimmed in black winking across the boring beige tiles, and Lambert flexing so hard, he actually split the sleeves out of his shirt once. They were stupidly in love and Jaskier couldn't imagine them looking twice at anyone else. “No, that can't be right, he's pulling your leg.”

Eskel arched an eyebrow and turned, shouting towards the back of the store. “Lambert! You and Aiden still doing that thing?” There were no customers around, but better safe than sorry.

Lambert appeared from behind a rack of weights and nodded. “Yeah, just had a date the other night. I'll fucking tell you, Viagra is God's gift to the world. Ethen let us spit roast him and still had enough in him to let Aiden ride him. Though our favorite is when they just watch me and Aiden go to town.” Though the Christmas season was busy, there was that dead zone of two thirty on a Thursday afternoon, and Lambert was fully able to look out their front windows to where Aiden sat looking back at him. And they both fucking winked at the other.

Jaskier covered his face with his hands, shaking his head. “No, not for me, no, thank you.”

“C'mon, most of 'em aren't looking for just sex. It's a companionship thing too,” Lambert said.

“Yes, that's exactly what I want to be, a _companion_ for some old bastard with a chemically induced stiffy.” Jaskier sneered. There had to be a better way to make money, this all sounded... far too sketch.

“They're not all old, just experienced.” Lambert jabbed his thumb towards the back break room. “Geralt was dating a doctor for a while, not that old, he just didn't have time for normal relationships.”

A head of silver-white hair appeared from the back, as if summoned by the talk of casual sex. “Hmm, you mean Regis? Yeah, he wasn't that old, just busy.” He shrugged and made his way back onto the sales floor to tidy things up before the next wave of customers came.

Jaskier sputtered for a moment. “Is there... have you all had a sugar daddy before? How am I just learning this?”

“You never asked.”

Jaskier dropped the conversation there. He was not interested in getting some older man to give him money, and he didn't think he was willing to do the sorts of things necessary to get said money... But those bastards kept eyeing his small tupperware meals and the way Jaskier longingly stared at the soft pretzel cart a few shops down. Then Lambert signed him up for a sugar dating app! What the fuck!

“Got you a date,” he said in the middle of the day, wagging his phone under Jaskier's nose.

Jaskier was taking a drink and almost spit water all over the counter top. “What? A date where?” He looked at Lambert's phone in horror. There was a picture of him from New Year, lips red and kiss swollen from some lovely man he met at a party, eyes heavy with drink, a small smile on his lips... alright, it was a fucking good picture, and apparently it had caught him—he checked the messages—eight possible sugar daddies. “Lambert! Fuck, no.”

“C'mon, you need a little help. Even if it's just one good meal and some left overs. We're all tired of watching you eat sad sandwiches and drink fucking water every day for lunch. I filtered through, this one is good.” Lambert handed over his phone and showed Jaskier the man, the _sugar daddy_ , he now had a date with.

Vesemir Morhen, his profile said. Age sixty, occupation... “Professional Santa?” Jaskier sighed. “Lambert, no—”

“Lambert, yes, look at his pictures.” Jaskier did look. They were... not what he expected.

This Vesemir had light gray hair with a few white wisps at the temples and through his beard. His beard was well styled, and there were a few pictures of him as Santa, but not in a mall with children, some sort of high end photoshoot. Sprawled across the hood of a BMW, red Santa jacket open with no shirt, exposing what looked like a very fine chest. There were others too, one that looked like a sexy Santa calendar page, another with a very modern Santa suit (dark red crushed velvet, gold cuff links shaped like bells) that could've been an ad for something. All of it very tasteful, very classy...

And then there was his profile picture, the first one Lambert shoved under Jaskier's eyes, the one he didn't look too closely at. He looked now and saw a trail of white hair going down a toned stomach, dipping below a thick black belt, honey colored eyes glittering up at the camera with a small smirk.

“Alright,” he sighed. “One date.”

And now here Jaskier was, fretting and panicking. What kind of man described himself as a _professional_ Santa on a dating profile? Did he think it got him more action during the fucking holidays? Did Jaskier even want to be around that sort of person? Let alone sleep with them and ask them for money? No, this was not good, not his bag. He got up again only to see the man—Vesemir—striding towards him, that same small smirk from his profile picture on his face.

The knot of tension in Jaskier's stomach seemed to get bigger. “Uh, hello, I—”

Vesemir extended his hand and Jaskier shook it, he had no reason not to. “Hello, Jaskier, correct? Or do I have the wrong table?”

“No, I'm Jaskier, and you're, you're Vesemir.” One gray eyebrow arched and Jaskier shook his head. “My apologies. I'm, well I'm nervous. I've never—” Never what? Let a man fuck him for money? Well, that was true, but was he supposed to say that out loud? He had no fucking clue what he was doing, neither Lambert nor Geralt (even though the bastards had done this before) gave him any helpful advice, short of “have a good time.”

Vesemir chuckled, a deep, rich rumble that somehow _sounded_ like Christmas. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit, hair neatly combed back, not very Santa like at all. “Don't worry, I'm always nervous on first dates too. Can we sit?”

“Yes, please.” The man seemed nice enough, this Vesemir. Maybe Eskel was right, if all he got was a free meal, that's one meal Jaskier didn't have to pay for (and couldn't _afford_ to pay for). So he resigned himself to a date, a nice, casual date... Jaskier hadn't had one of those in a long time either.

Vesemir nodded and sat on the other side of the table, unbuttoning his jacket as he dropped into the seat. “It's nice to meet you.”

“Before we go any further, I have a bit of a confession to make.” That eyebrow arched again and Jaskier took a breath. “I don't... I don't do this sort of thing. A friend of mine started a profile for me and told me he found me a date. A few friends, actually, they're a little nosy, but they only want the best for me.”

“Ah.” Vesemir's smile dipped a little. “Does that mean you're here out of some sort of obligation? If you'd rather leave, I won't be offended.”

“No, no, I want to stay. I like what I saw on your profile. Not just the pictures—oh, oh fuck.” Jaskier clapped a hand over his face and shook his head. “Like I said, I don't do this much. Don't even know where to begin.”

“Let's start with: how much of your profile was wrong? How much was just your friends trying to help?” Vesemir wasn't frowning anymore, but his smile hadn't returned, maybe he was rethinking this whole situation too.

“It was all pretty good.” Lambert made him read it after Jaskier agreed to download the app on his phone. _Sugar Babez_ did not make the whole situation less uncomfortable. “We've all been friends for a while, they know me pretty well.”

The smile finally returned, along with the little twinkle in Vesemir's eye. “So they know what kind of man you'd like to date?”

Jaskier nodded, sudden shyness stealing his voice. “Yes, they do.”

A waiter appeared and took their order. Jaskier went for a moderately priced pasta dish and Vesemir said nothing, then ordered a more expensive bottle of wine for them both to share, clearly setting the tone. “Save room for desert,” he said. “They do a lovely chocolate mousse here.” They sat silently for a moment, Jaskier shifting awkwardly under Vesemir's (admittedly) gorgeous gaze. “You can ask,” Vesemir finally said. “I put it on my profile for a reason.”

“Professional Santa?” Jaskier suppressed a giggle, his face heating up when Vesemir smiled at the sound of his laughter. “What does that mean, really?”

“I don't do malls. Advertisements, mostly. A few private parties, but I prefer adult work.”

“Adult work?” Jaskier's stomach dropped. Did Lambert find him some porn star? Jaskier was definitely not ready for that sort of thing, a man to pay for his meal and have a nice chat with, sure, but not someone who would... No, he was getting ahead of himself. “What adult work is there for a Santa?”

Vesemir shook his head. “Believe it or not, sexy Santa calendars are all the rage. Every year, I get a call for one. I had a car dealership recently, wanted a sexy Santa on a red corvette. I enjoy that sort of thing, keeps me young.”

They talked some more, Jaskier told Vesemir some of the things Lambert and the others didn't mention in his profile: his song writing, or that he could play almost any stringed instrument on the planet. “A string is a string,” Jaskier said. “Give me a few minutes to figure it out and I can play it, harp, guitar, mandolin, lute, whatever.” Vesemir nodded in interest and sipped at his wine. It was astoundingly good, Jaskier had two glasses already, which probably wasn't a good idea, but...

As they talked, Jaskier found himself leaning in, his food going cold on his plate as he listened to Vesemir's stories about photo shoots, ditzy models dressed as Mrs. Clause trying to get his number, photographers shocked that Santa had abs instead of a gut, or even the time a private party at some fancy country estate almost ended with the hostess falling asleep in his lap.

“Yes, I see now, sounds very adult,” Jaskier joked.

His cheeks were flushed now, too much wine, too much smiling. And Vesemir kept getting closer and closer, their hands laying next to each other on top of the table. When Vesemir's hand finally brushed his, Jaskier's breath caught. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I don't know—what do you expect? I've never...”

“Shh, it's alright,” Vesemir said, voice low. “I don't expect anything other than a nice meal and good conversation. I like you, Jaskier, and as you can tell from my career, I like the holiday season. I enjoy meeting people, spending time together... no one should be alone this time of year.”

“It is a little hard right now...” Oh fuck, he told himself he wasn't going to do this. Yes, Jaskier needed a few bills covered, but that wasn't the worst of it. His school roommates had moved out, leaving him in an empty apartment for fucking Christmas. His parents said they'd visit, but a visit wasn't really that much, now was it? It wasn't friends sitting together in the kitchen baking cookies, or falling asleep in front of the TV after watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer while drunk. The whole lack of a good job thing would've been easier with more people around, Geralt, Eskel, Lambert and Aiden hung out with him when they could, and they had plans for Christmas, but there was so much time to remember he was in an empty apartment this year.

Jaskier pushed away his wine before he had too much and truly embarrassed himself. “It's my first year on my own, really on my own. So yeah, it is nice to have someone to spend time with.”

Vesemir trailed his fingers up the back of Jaskier's hand, and this time, he didn't twitch. “Then that's what we'll do. Spend time.”

Vesemir ordered desert—a chocolate mousse with two spoons—and they continued talking. Though it was already December, Vesemir had a sexy Santa calendar shoot lined up for tomorrow morning, “Next year's calendar, they wanted real snow...” and they called it a night.

Jaskier watched, biting his lips and Vesemir didn't even glance at the check, handing over his card, his other hand still on the table, fingers tangled with Jaskier's. “Thank you, for the meal. If I could ever repay you...”

“That's not what this is about. I enjoyed spending time with you, that's what I get out of it. I'd like to see you again, if you're interested?” The hopeful note in Vesemir's voice made him shiver, and Jaskier nodded.

As they walked outside, Jaskier caught sight of a Santa red BMW sitting in the lot. “Is that your car?”

“Yes, it is. What can I say? I look good in red.”

“Judging by your profile pictures, I have to agree.”

Vesemir let out a great belly laugh and opened the passenger side door, inclining his head for Jaskier to get in. “Please, let me drive you home. I don't want you waiting out in the cold for some dreadful taxi.”

It was getting cold, and most of his winter clothes needed replacing... “Alright, thank you.” He sat in the car and Vesemir waited until he was situated before pulling out of the parking lot.

They didn't have far to go, in warmer weather, Jaskier would've walked back to his apartment. Vesemir pulled up outside his building and leaned over, laying a gentle hand on Jaskier's thigh. “I had a lot of fun tonight. Can I call you tomorrow after my shoot?”

“Y-yes.” Jaskier winced at his own shaky voice, by he didn't have time to over think it when Vesemir was suddenly much closer, their lips almost touching.

“May I kiss you?”

Silver gray hair, golden eyes, lips that smelled like chocolate and wine... Jaskier's voice absolutely didn't shake this time when he said, “Yes.”

Warm lips massaged his and Jaskier held his breath before sighing into the kiss, letting his tongue trail along Vesemir's lower lip for a quick second before plunging in between his lips. The hand on his thigh stayed perfectly in place, didn't slide up for a grope, or pull him in. Vesemir simply kissed, sampling the taste of Jaskier's lips before pulling back, rubbing his own lips together to savor that just kissed feeling for a moment longer.

“Call you tomorrow.”

“Yes please.”

* * *

Jaskier tried not to spend all day staring at his phone, luckily, they were busy and he didn't get too many chances to sneak it out of his pocket and check for a message from Vesemir. When the weird afternoon lull hit, Eskel and Lambert both flanked Jaskier back in the sports wear section, pretending to fold as the nudged him with their elbows.

“So?” Lambert asked.

“How did it go?” Eskel said.

Jaskier watched his hands as he folded, not looking up at their smug faces. “It was fine. He's going to call me.” He heard them high five behind his back and rolled his eyes. “Don't be so smug, he's only bought me dinner and... I don't know if I can accept anything _big_.” Vesemir was very nice, and attractive, and for the first time in weeks, the dark cloud that hovered over Jaskier seemed a little bit lighter.

He wouldn't call it a full on depression, Jaskier had always been a happy person, looking on the bright side when things went bad, able to pull himself out of small funks. But this was a _big_ funk. Going back to his old college job instead of moving on into his field, stuck at the same mall he worked at during school, the same friends were nice, but he hadn't made the decision to move back home yet, which gave him a small amount of hope that a real job was just around the corner, yet reinforced just how alone he was without his family... and at Christmas of all times.

Being with Vesemir for a few hours lifted that haze of not-depression that threatened to settled over him. A nice meal, good conversation, and a kiss went a long way to lifting Jaskier's spirits. Yes, Jaskier very much enjoyed the kiss, and he wanted to get to know Vesemir more, but taking money from him seemed tacky.

Standing up on his tip toes to check if the store was clear, Lambert looped an arm around Jaskier's shoulders. “The thing is, all the people on that app know what they're getting into. He probably wants to buy you stuff, help you out. If you're uncomfortable with what he expects in return, then he's not the man for you. But if you really like him, I'd say give it a shot. We only want the best for you, buddy. Christmas is a hard time of year to be alone.”

“But he won't be alone this year.” Geralt appeared around the shelf and nodded for Lambert to take his turn at the register. “You're coming to our place for Christmas, right? You can bring your new daddy, if you like him that much.”

Jaskier scowled, he wasn't sure he liked that term... it was fine, stimulating even in a number of ways, but mentioned so casually... “Vesemir,” he said. “And he... well, I'll see how things go.”

With a few more reassuring glances from his friends (they did mean well, they wanted him to have a good time, a good relationship, even if they went about it in the most batshit insane way possible) they all went back to work. Geralt pulled out his phone to text the details for Christmas dinner to Jaskier, giving him the chance to check for any messages from Vesemir...

_Missed call_ blinked up at him and Jaskier's heart started to hammer. “Eskel, I'm taking my break!” Eskel waved him off and he disappeared into the back, listening to the voice mail Vesemir left.

“Hello Jaskier, sorry I didn't call earlier. The photo shoot ran long. I'd really like to see you again, tonight, if that's not too forward of me. Give me a call.”

The message ended there. Jaskier listened to it three more times before dialing Vesemir's number. As the phone rang, his stomach flipped over and over. What the fuck was he doing? They just had a date, _one_ date. If he was uncomfortable accepting gifts (hypothetical gifts that had not been offered yet) he probably shouldn't look so desperate. Jaskier was about to hang up when the line clicked open.

“I was hoping you'd call,” Vesemir purred. “I'd love to see you again soon. If you're available?”

“Yes, I'm very available. I mean, in a non-desperate way, uh...” Jaskier smacked a palm to his forehead and sighed. “Yes, I'd like to see you. I'm done at work at seven, if that's good for you?”

“Perfect. Would you like me to pick you up? It's no trouble.”

Jaskier asked Vesemir to pick him up in the large parking lot outside the movie theater, it was closest and might lead to a conversation, “Let me treat you to a movie,” Vesemir might say. That was the sort of thing Jaskier was more comfortable accepting, not... whatever else one might get from a sugar daddy.

The Santa red BMW pulled into the lot and the door opened. Vesemir climbed out and smiled at him, still clad in a very fine Santa suit, the wool jacket unbuttoned to reveal a waist coat with gold buttons. Jaskier looked down at himself, with his sneakers, joggers and stupid t-shirt covered by his jacket. He did not look the part of a sugar baby, if that was even what he was. “My apologies that I'm still dressed from work,” Vesemir said, walking around the car and opening the door for Jaskier. He climbed in the car and Vesemir slid back into the driver's seat. “The shoot was over when you called, then my agent rang, they needed a few extra shots.” He shook his head. “The calendar is next year, don't know why they're in such a rush.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. But it's not a bad look.” Though Jaskier wanted to melt into the heated seat, he reached over and stroked his hand up Vesemir's arm, earning a small smile. “You do look good in that suit.”

“Thank you. This isn't even my best one.” He flicked a piece of fluff off the cuff, then brushed his fingers over Jaskier's. “The color looks nice on camera, but my good suit is heavier, but beautiful. I'd love to show it to you.” Vesemir peered at him out of the corner of his eye. “We talked about spending time. Do you have time now?”

Jaskier needed a change of clothes, and a shower, and he should go out for groceries, but with what money? His next paycheck wasn't until the end of the week. Hanging out with Vesemir— _spending time_ —might get him another meal, along with some nice company. Both were much better than going home to an empty apartment. “I could go for some dinner, if you like. But you probably want to change.”

“How about this, I drop you off at your place, let you shower and change out of your work clothes, I'll pick up dinner and we can eat at my home? I can show you my good suits.”

Jaskier's face heated up. Already? He was already getting an invite to Vesemir's home? Was this how it usually worked? His stomach growled at the thought of empty cupboards at home, and he nodded. “That sounds good, yes.”

“Excellent. What kind of food do you prefer?”

This time, Jaskier did melt into the heated leather seat, leaning his head back against the head rest. His hand had slid from Vesemir's arm to brush down his side before he pulled away, but still lingered close enough to touch if he wanted. “Surprise me.”

Vesemir dropped him off at his apartment and Jaskier ran upstairs, taking a quick, but thorough shower and tearing through his closet for something suitable for a second date. At his sugar daddy's house, where they were going to look at his Santa suits...

Alright, maybe Lambert and Geralt didn't give him any tips because this was a little less normal than their usual sugar baby gigs. Jaskier banished his nervousness and made sure his hair was dry after his shower, fluffing it the way everyone said was most attractive. His phone buzzed just as he was finished getting dressed and he opened it to find a picture message: a bag of Chinese food sitting in the seat of the BMW, Vesemir's thigh very visible, now clad in black trousers, Santa suit gone.

Jaskier rushed downstairs and hopped into the car. The trip back to Vesemir's home was short, he lived closer than Jaskier expected. The house was small, but obviously well cared for, delicate white Christmas lights outlining the roof, and a wreath on the door, no giant garish blow up snowmen or blinking things.

Vesemir insisted on carrying the food inside, and as soon as they opened the door, a wall of heat and scent hit him. Vesemir's home smelled like Christmas. Cinnamon, and cloves, there was a light scent of gingerbread on the air and Jaskier couldn't help but float inside.

Next to him, Vesemir chuckled and took his coat, hanging it up on the coat tree next to the door. “I made cookies earlier, I like when the smell lingers.”

“It smells wonderful in here.” Though you wouldn't think it, the smell of their food didn't clash with the Christmas-ie notes filling the house, it was all warm and homey, a feeling Jaskier hadn't had in a while. Vesemir pointed him into the kitchen and they set out plates, eating like any normal date, a quiet night in.

Vesemir poured him some wine and Jaskier noticed he didn't pour any for himself. Always sharp, always observing, Vesemir smiled. “While I'd love to have you stay the night, if you'd rather head home, I need to be good to drive you. I won't have you take a taxi.”

_Do you want to stay the night?_ Jaskier heard the invitation and his stomach fluttered. They'd been on one date—two now—shared just two meals, some pleasing conversation, and a kiss. A very _good_ kiss. He was attracted to Vesemir, and yes, there was the whole sugar daddy thing hanging over them, but Jaskier didn't need that, they could just be... dating. Like normal.

Moving slowly, so he didn't twitch and knock over the wine, Jaskier reached across the table and picked up the bottle, filling Vesemir's glass. “I'm rather comfortable. And you still need to show me those suits you mentioned.”

Their food was mostly finished, Jaskier helped clean up, bumping playfully against Vesemir as they moved around the kitchen. Then, Vesemir's arm fell around Jaskier's hips and steered him out to the living room.

He sat Jaskier on the couch with a fresh glass of wine and a wink. “I'll be back.”

Jaskier stayed in the living room, his leg bouncing as he drank his wine. The bedroom door was cracked open, did Vesemir mean for him to follow, or was it just a habit? Living by himself, he probably didn't need to close the doors... Jaskier drank more wine, his glass almost empty. He liked Vesemir, he enjoyed his company and his kisses, there didn't have to be any strange financial situation between them, they could just date, and right now, Jaskier wanted to be supportive of Vesemir's professional Santa status, excited to see his _best suits_.

The jingling of bells announced his arrival. Turning, Jaskier's eyes went wide as Vesemir stepped into the living room, arms spread wide. “What do you think?” The suit wasn't the vivid cola colored red, more a deep crimson, with what looked like real fur trim on the sleeves and at the hem. The trousers weren't overly baggy either, they were tucked into the gorgeous black boots that were the source of the jingling, two little silver bells adorning the top of each boot.

“Wow,” was the only word Jaskier could conjure. There was no hat, no playful tassel to distract from Vesemir's handsome face and well trimmed beard. “I must say, when you said Santa Suit, I didn't think...”

Vesemir chuckled. “No one ever does.” He sat down on the couch next to Jaskier and wrapped an arm around his waist, never dipping low enough to grope. He leaned forward and slid a leather portfolio across the top of the coffee table. He opened it to a page towards the middle. It was Vesemir in the same suit, maybe two or three years ago, only this time, the jacket was open revealing surprisingly toned abs as he lounged on a red BMW.

“Airbrushing, my stomach not _that_ nice,” Vesemir said as Jaskier's tongue fell out of his mouth. “One of the reasons I get so much work as a Santa model, I have my own suits.” He rested his hand on Jaskier's knee. “Would you like to see some of the others?”

Jaskier couldn't nod fast enough. “Yes please.”

Vesemir changed into a few more suits. The next was more modern, a dark burgundy with gold trim at the lapels, gold buttons and a creamy shirt underneath. The corresponding picture in the portfolio had the buttons of the shirt open to Vesemir's navel while he gave the camera a sultry smolder. He refilled Jaskier's glass before changing into another suit, this one more traditional, but still not the bright candy red. “I like darker tones,” Vesemir said as he rubbed the fur of the cuff up Jaskier's cheek, making him giggle at the tickle. “It feels more mature. I have one more that I like to show off, if you're interested?”

“Please,” Jaskier said with a nod, leaning back into the couch and getting comfortable. Vesemir leaned in to snatch a kiss before retreating to the bedroom. This time, he did close the door, and Jaskier heard more jingle bells as he undressed and put on the last suit.

The door opened again and Jaskier's eyes went wide. It was as if Father Christmas himself had stepped off the cover of an old timey Christmas card. Vesemir was dressed in a long robe lined with soft brown fur, a green and gold cord around his waist cinching the robe closed, a crown of garland ringing his head. The robe came down to the floor, brushing as he walked, making his way over to Jaskier and sitting on the couch next to him.

Vesemir moved in close, no more than before, but Jaskier felt the heat of his body through the fine robe. He took a breath, inhaling the smells of a cedar closet that lingered around the clothing, with a hint of the Christmas scents already swirling through Vesemir's home. Vesemir leaned forward until their lips were almost touching, one hand on Jaskier's waist. “Before I show you the photo for this one, I'd like to ask you something, and I'd appreciate your honesty.”

“Yes, of course.” Vesemir smelled amazing this close, Jaskier noticed it on their date last night and when they were in the car, spicy and warm, he wanted to push his face into Vesemir's neck and never emerge.

Bumping their foreheads together, Vesemir's hand slid to Jaskier's thigh. “What do you need, Jaskier? I want to spend time with you, but I want to help you too. I like taking care of my lovers, the people I choose to spend time with are very important to me and I want you to be happy. What do you need?”

Words failed him again, this time from embarrassment. This whole sugar daddy situation, Jaskier didn't _need_ it, he liked Vesemir, he wasn't going to ask for things. No, that's not what he wanted. He went to shake his head, then fell into those golden eyes; the hand on his thigh slid up to caress his arm, rubbing softly. “You don't need to,” he finally managed to squeak out.

“But I _want_ to,” Vesemir countered. “I want to make sure you're taken care of, and I want to be the one who takes care of you.”

It was the wine, or the comfortable house, or the warm scents of home and Christmas swirling around, but the dam inside Jaskier burst. “Groceries. Uh, I've been... skimping. My roommates moved out and I haven't found anyone new. I... oh fuck.” He tried to hide his face in his hands, but Vesemir was there, holding him close.

“What do you need? Tell me.”

“Some new clothes? My winter things, it's been colder than usual lately, my jacket is too small for me.” Not to mention it had a rip at the back that opened like a sail whenever the wind kicked up, making Jaskier's teeth chatter as he walked to the bus stop. He was not about to ask Vesemir for a car, that was too fucking much. But the other things... oh hell, what was he doing?

Before he could fall deeper into his spiral, Vesemir's fingers tilted his chin up, drawing their eyes together. “Tomorrow, we'll go shopping. Get you everything you need. As for the roommate situation, I can make a few calls, I know a lot of young models looking for a room to rent. It's no trouble. Now,” Vesemir's voice got low, more serious, but he was still staring into Jaskier's eyes like he was looking at a precious jewel, “we don't have to do anything tonight if you'd like to take things slow. I wanted to show you my suits because they are a collection I take pride in, but it doesn't have to lead to anything. We can watch movies if you like.”

Jaskier shook his head. “No, I want... I'd like to, I'd like to be with you.” Oh fuck he sounded like a blushing virgin. “It's been a while though, if that's alright.”

“It's perfectly alright,” Vesemir said with a smile.

He tilted his head and leaned in for a kiss when Jaskier pulled back, his eyes falling to the black portfolio on the table. “Can I see what this suit was for?”

Vesemir didn't speak, he simply reached out and opened the book again, flipping to the last page. On a background of falling snow, Vesemir stood wearing the gorgeous robe, fine leather boots and the crown... and nothing else. The robe hung open, his lips quirked in a small smile, chin tilted up as if to turn his face towards the gently falling snow, a thick cock hanging between his legs. Even soft, it was substantial and Jaskier couldn't help the gasp of pleasure that pushed through his lips.

Vesemir stood up from the couch and opened the robe. The boots were the same, but this time he was hard and Jaskier licked his lips. He'd never wanted to have a cock in his mouth more than he did at this moment. Glancing up at Vesemir, he slid forward and wrapped his fingers around the shaft, pumping slowly. “Mmm, yes, I think I like this part. Bedroom?”

Reaching down, Vesemir swept him off his feet. It wasn't quite a bridal carry, but Jaskier's feet didn't really hit the ground as they walked to the bedroom, and Vesemir's lips slid across his, both of them moaning. When they finally pulled apart, Jaskier looked at the bed he'd be spending the night in. A laugh bubbled up inside him when he saw the curled head and foot board. “A sleigh bed?” he giggled.

Vesemir chuckled as well, his fingers making quick work of Jaskier's clothes, flying over the buttons of his shirt and pushing it down his shoulders, hands smoothing over butter soft skin covered in thick hair. His hand dropped to Jaskier's belt and he raised an eyebrow in question. “Yes,” Jaskier breathed, watching Vesemir's face as he continued undressing Jaskier.

“Mmm, you're like a present, I like unwrapping you...” Vesemir hummed, sliding the belt from the loops and depositing it on the floor. Jaskier took his shoes off at the door, toeing out of them to prevent the awkwardness of having to stop in the middle of this truly lovely moment. His trousers hit the floor and he stepped out of them, bare skin brushing the warm skin of Vesemir's chest and the soft fur lining the robe.

Their lips met again and Vesemir urged him back towards the bed, never pushing, gently guiding. The backs of Jaskier's legs hit the mattress and he would have toppled, if it weren't for Vesmeir's strong arms around his hips, one snaking up his back and pushing between his shoulder blades. He broke the kiss and leaned their foreheads together. “Lay back?” A request, not an instruction or a demand, a price to be paid for the promise of assistance Jaskier desperately needed, but the _request_ of a lover.

Jaskier had no trouble laying back on the bed, the warm down comforter smooth and soft on his back. Eyes not leaving his, Vesemir grabbed the small pump bottle of lube off the bedside table and pumped a decent amount across his fingers. Jaskier lifted his legs to his chest automatically, exposing... well, everything. Vesemir already knew intimate details about him, his friends, his sadness at being alone for the holidays, his finances, there was no reason not to show off his body as well; Jaskier hadn't had a connection like this in a very long time and he was ready to let it cover him, consume him in love and comfort, because that seemed to be what was on offer.

Gently but experienced fingers probed at his hole, massaging lightly to start before pressing inside. “Uh, fuck,” Jaskier moaned and bit down on his lip.

There was a twinkle in Vesemir's eye as he watched his fingers disappear into Jaskier's tight hole. “Mmm, so good for me. You want me inside?”

“Yes,” Jaskier gasped out, barely able to hold his own legs back, he was shaking so hard. His cock was trapped by his belly, but there was still a small amount of friction keeping him right on the edge of too much and not enough. Imagining Vesemir's hand around him, the same hand slowly stretching him... “Fuck, yes please.”

“Soon,” Vesemir whispered. His fingers retreated a little, then three slid in, stretching Jaskier, getting him ready for that thick cock currently brushing the back of his thighs. It was so hot, the skin almost burning against his, but it felt so good, he _wanted_ it.

The fingers retreated again, disappearing. But before Jaskier could mourn their absence, another hot, press slid between his cheeks, resting at his hole. “Fuck,” he moaned again. He saw Vesemir's cock lovingly framed by the warm fur and the deep red of the Father Christmas robe, felt it on his skin when they kissed, when they touched, but now it was... Jaskier felt like he might be split in two. And he couldn't wait. “Yes, please more.”

“I'll give you all you want, Jaskier, all you have to do is ask.”

“Give me your cock!” he gasped. And Vesemir did.

Slow, oh so slow, he pushed in, the thick cock spreading Jaskier open, burning a little but in the best way. White hot tremors of pleasure shook his legs and his hands couldn't hold anymore. Luckily, Vesemir was there, taking Jaskier's ankles in his hands and wrapping them around his waist. He kept touching, soothing Jaskier through the slow push, until Vesemir's thighs brushed his ass. He stopped, letting him accommodate to the stretch. “That's all of it. How do you feel?”

“Mmm, amazing.” Jaskier closed his eyes at some point, he wasn't sure when. He opened them again and looked up, Vesemir leaning over him, their lips almost brushing, the warm fur of the robe rubbing him, sending tingles of a different kind of pleasure through his chest as his hole clenched around the fat cock inside him, the cock he never wanted to let go of. “Please, please move. I need you to fuck me.”

Vesemir drew his hips back. “I don't want to fuck you, I want to make love.” He thrust forward again, smiling softly at the noises that drew from Jaskier. He ran one hand across Jaskier's face, pushing his hair from his eyes, over his lips before leaning down to kiss them. “You're so beautiful.”

“You're wonderful.” Almost as if he suddenly remembered he had hands, Jaskier twined his fingers in Vesemir's hair, bringing their lips together. “Please, make love to me.”

There was a soft rumble of agreement and Vesemir's hips pulled back before sliding forward again, pushing into Jaskier. He squeezed, threw his head back and moaned, wrapped his arms and legs as tight as he could, he never wanted to let Vesemir go. It had been far too long since Jaskier had a boyfriend or a girlfriend to spend time with, someone to hold and kiss as they moved together, he wasn't sure if Vesemir was the _boyfriend_ type, but that could be sorted out later. Right now, Jaskier gave himself over, let his new lover learn to play his body like Jaskier played an instrument.

Strong hands cupped his face, kisses ghosting over his lips, cheeks, eyes, and collarbones as hips pumped away. Vesemir's cock dragged over Jaskier's prostate like they were magnetized and he couldn't help the breathless noises that escaped him. The robe fanned out over him, encasing them both in a cocoon of body heat, and Jaskier heard the faint tinkling of sleigh bells...

“Bells on the tie of the robe,” Vesemir whispered in his ear, reading his mind. “I can take it off.”

“Would you have to stop to do that?”

“Hmm, probably.”

“Then leave them. Never stop touching me.” Jaskier turned his head and kissed the nearest piece of flesh, Vesemir's jaw, strong and well defined with a nicely shaped beard. Fuck, even that was soft, the smooth hairs didn't even catch on his lips as Jaskier kissed.

Vesemir got a hand between them and wrapped it around Jaskier's cock, moving in long, slow strokes, thumb flicking over the head, sending sparks through Jaskier's pelvis and down his thighs, making him tighten more, try to wrap Vesemir up completely. He bucked and Vesemir picked up the pace, thrusting faster, and faster, until Jaskier arched, wailing, “Oh, oh fuck!”

Blue eyes went wide and Vesemir growled, come spurting through his fingers as he stroked Jaskier through his orgasm. “You're beautiful,” he whispered, then grunted as he came, spilling inside of the beautiful body under him. Flopping forward a little, Vesemir buried his face in Jaskier's neck, breathing deep.

After what seemed like forever, Jaskier's hips stopped twitching, his cock spent from a truly shattering orgasm. “Vesemir?” he whispered. “Was it—did you—” _Did you get what you wanted? Was I good enough for you?_ He wasn't sure if it was the pressure of Vesemir's promise to get him what he needed, or the fact that it had been a very long time indeed (could you forget how to have good sex? Jaskier hoped not) he was suddenly desperate to know if this amazing man was as happy with Jaskier as Jaskier was with him.

Lips brushed his neck before Vesemir sat up, pulling out, making them both groan. “It was wonderful. Let's get cleaned up.”

Jaskier frowned a little when he took off the beautiful robe and laid it aside safely, but another glimpse at Vesemir's body was well worth it. Muscles still strong despite their advancing years rearranged them until Jaskier was tucked into the bed. Vesemir left for a moment and returned with a wet cloth, wiping Jaskier down before settling into bed next to him.

They slotted together like they'd been doing it for years instead of days, and Jaskier sighed, safe, content in Vesemir's arms. For the first time since he finished school, he drifted off to sleep without a single worry.

* * *

The next morning, after a very tender round of morning sex and a hot shower—which Vesemir let him take _alone_ , “You don't need to be around me every moment, Jaskier, spending time is nice but you might need a break, I'll make breakfast...” It had been so long since Jaskier had a mature relationship, he almost forgot what they were like.

Vesemir didn't pick out his clothes either. Dressed in an immaculate dark red suit as usual (a sprig of holly in the button hole) Vesemir sat back as Jaskier drifted towards the more blue tones that matched his eyes. As he came out of the dressing room to a fond smile, he could almost hear the unspoken words, _I like the way you came to me, I won't try to change you_. At the grocery store, as Vesemir watched him pick out less than healthy food and didn't say a word, the last tendrils of Jaskier's anxiety started to fade away; all the things he thought about a sugar situation didn't seem to apply with Vesemir, he didn't want to dictate or control what Jaskier did just because he was paying for it, which was... nice.

As for Jaskier's apartment, well, finding new roommates so late in the year was going to be difficult, so Vesemir focused on getting him into a smaller apartment in the New Year. “My lease is up in March,” Jaskier told him.

“Then we have plenty of time.” Vesemir squeezed his knee and leaned in for a kiss as they drove back to the house for some much earned warm cuddles in the sleigh bed.

Jaskier was absolutely not moving in with Vesemir, they were both clear on that... but he still ended up spending every night with him that week. In that lovely sleigh bed with the carved headboard that curled like the front of a gorgeous sleigh pulled by a team of reindeer. And Vesemir didn't dress up in a new suit each night, he only showed off his best suits to woo Jaskier (how that worked he still had no clue). They mostly had sex like normal people. And it was good, so fucking good: Vesemir between his legs, covering him, holding him tight, or the nights when he urged Jaskier onto his lap for a good ride, “Want to watch you, I love seeing how much you enjoy it,” it was always good. Fucking perfect. And while Jaskier wasn't totally sure where the sound was coming from, whenever they got a good rhythm going, the whole bed shaking and moving with them as teeth sunk into his skin to suck love bites up his neck, he heard the faint tinkling of bells...

* * *

Of course the idiots at work wanted all the details, even Aiden drifted over from his store to do something other than make out with Lambert in the back room. “Spent all week with him?” Aiden asked, arching an eyebrow. “Does that mean it's serious?”

“Yes,” Jaskier said. “I wasn't looking for a fling, I wanted something more.”

“And now you have it.” Jaskier heard the words under that, _told you so_. Yes, they did, but Vesemir wasn't the kind of sugar daddy situation they others had, he was a companion, a relationship, which is exactly what Jaskier needed, what he wanted.

“We're glad you're happy,” Eskel said, wrapping an arm around him in a quick hug before jetting across the store to help a customer.

“You gonna bring him to Christmas?” Geralt asked. “We wouldn't mind. If it is serious, we want to meet this man of yours.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, but nodded all the same. “Yes, I think I will.” Mmm, the thought of Vesemir at Christmas dinner, dressed in one of his more modern suits, dashing and smooth, but he still looked like he just stepped out of a Santa advertisement. It would be so lovely to have him and his friends all around for Christmas, less lonely, which is really all Jaskier needed to make this Christmas a happy one.


End file.
